Describe your most amazing experience in a sportscar
07-27-2017 | 12:10 AM
#16
Drifting
Joined: Jun 2014
Posts: 2,268
Likes: 18
From: NORTHERN CALIFORNIA
07-27-2017 | 07:42 AM
#17
Racer
Joined: Feb 2016
Posts: 441
Likes: 101
From: Canada
Jack Kerouac’s ‘On the Road’ is the quintessential voice of the 1950s ‘beat generation’. It ranks high on every scholarly list of the greatest American novels of all time. My dad loved that book and also heading out on free spirited road trips. My first car back when I was in school was an antique little 1967 MGB. With the wisdom of a teenager, I decided that it would be an excellent idea for me and my equally wise teenage friend, Prissy, to take our own mini road trip. She had a bad breakup with her boyfriend and was inconsolable. So, a week on the open road was just the tonic needed.
When my dad could only voice a half dozen reasons why this was an ill-advised endeavor instead of his usual 20, I knew I was going to win. Miss Prissy’s parents, Mr and Mrs Prissy, were a much harder sell. They asked my dad if he thought we’d be ok, he said: “they’ll make every rookie mistake possible”. “However, as a team, they seem to possess an uncommon amount of good sense and street smarts, so I’m sure they'll be fine”. Miracle of miracles the Prissys relented and a few days later we stowed our stuff in the MG’s trunk and prepared to take off. Priss was getting some final instructions from her mom, something about strange toilets. Dad told me to keep an eye on the oil pressure gauge and not to over-drive the dim little headlights.
The thing about an unstructured road trip, is you meet people and because of the anonymity, you share things with them. Things, you might think twice about saying to friends and family. We met up with an elderly couple driving cross-country in an ancient Jag XKE. The likelihood of two old English cars, both in running condition on the same day, out in the wilds of the Rocky Mountains is quite an unusual occurrence. Priss had brought a tape of Etta James the 50s blues artist singing ‘I’d rather go blind’, it’s the saddest breakup song ever. After she played it a dozen times I was enjoying it less and less, and it was only making her sadder. I started whipping the MG harder and harder to get the exhaust note to drown it out. The Jaguar grandma picked up on Priss’s despair and instantly guessed that a boy was responsible. I knew that Priss could never share carnal details with her own mother let alone her grandmother, but she gushed away with Jag grandma and was soon feeling much better. I left the Etta James tape with them as a reward.
That road trip was a ‘coming of age’ event for us and I’ll never forget the adventures we had. Not long ago Priss was in town with her own daughter. Upon discovering that Priss and I were teenage friends, the precocious little miss Prissette immediately asked me what was her mother like as a teen, and what kind of trouble did she get into. I looked over at Priss and we both laughed, remembering our trip and our vow, “what happens on a girl’s trip stays, stays on a girl’s trip.
When my dad could only voice a half dozen reasons why this was an ill-advised endeavor instead of his usual 20, I knew I was going to win. Miss Prissy’s parents, Mr and Mrs Prissy, were a much harder sell. They asked my dad if he thought we’d be ok, he said: “they’ll make every rookie mistake possible”. “However, as a team, they seem to possess an uncommon amount of good sense and street smarts, so I’m sure they'll be fine”. Miracle of miracles the Prissys relented and a few days later we stowed our stuff in the MG’s trunk and prepared to take off. Priss was getting some final instructions from her mom, something about strange toilets. Dad told me to keep an eye on the oil pressure gauge and not to over-drive the dim little headlights.
The thing about an unstructured road trip, is you meet people and because of the anonymity, you share things with them. Things, you might think twice about saying to friends and family. We met up with an elderly couple driving cross-country in an ancient Jag XKE. The likelihood of two old English cars, both in running condition on the same day, out in the wilds of the Rocky Mountains is quite an unusual occurrence. Priss had brought a tape of Etta James the 50s blues artist singing ‘I’d rather go blind’, it’s the saddest breakup song ever. After she played it a dozen times I was enjoying it less and less, and it was only making her sadder. I started whipping the MG harder and harder to get the exhaust note to drown it out. The Jaguar grandma picked up on Priss’s despair and instantly guessed that a boy was responsible. I knew that Priss could never share carnal details with her own mother let alone her grandmother, but she gushed away with Jag grandma and was soon feeling much better. I left the Etta James tape with them as a reward.
That road trip was a ‘coming of age’ event for us and I’ll never forget the adventures we had. Not long ago Priss was in town with her own daughter. Upon discovering that Priss and I were teenage friends, the precocious little miss Prissette immediately asked me what was her mother like as a teen, and what kind of trouble did she get into. I looked over at Priss and we both laughed, remembering our trip and our vow, “what happens on a girl’s trip stays, stays on a girl’s trip.
07-27-2017 | 11:39 AM
#18
Rainman
Rennlist Member
Rennlist Member
Joined: Jan 2007
Posts: 45,599
Likes: 670
From: Nashville, TN
07-28-2017 | 12:56 AM
#20
Three Wheelin'
Joined: Feb 2003
Posts: 1,676
Likes: 79
From: Santa Barbara, CA
Jack Kerouac’s ‘On the Road’ is the quintessential voice of the 1950s ‘beat generation’. It ranks high on every scholarly list of the greatest American novels of all time. My dad loved that book and also heading out on free spirited road trips. My first car back when I was in school was an antique little 1967 MGB. With the wisdom of a teenager, I decided that it would be an excellent idea for me and my equally wise teenage friend, Prissy, to take our own mini road trip. She had a bad breakup with her boyfriend and was inconsolable. So, a week on the open road was just the tonic needed.
When my dad could only voice a half dozen reasons why this was an ill-advised endeavor instead of his usual 20, I knew I was going to win. Miss Prissy’s parents, Mr and Mrs Prissy, were a much harder sell. They asked my dad if he thought we’d be ok, he said: “they’ll make every rookie mistake possible”. “However, as a team, they seem to possess an uncommon amount of good sense and street smarts, so I’m sure they'll be fine”. Miracle of miracles the Prissys relented and a few days later we stowed our stuff in the MG’s trunk and prepared to take off. Priss was getting some final instructions from her mom, something about strange toilets. Dad told me to keep an eye on the oil pressure gauge and not to over-drive the dim little headlights.
The thing about an unstructured road trip, is you meet people and because of the anonymity, you share things with them. Things, you might think twice about saying to friends and family. We met up with an elderly couple driving cross-country in an ancient Jag XKE. The likelihood of two old English cars, both in running condition on the same day, out in the wilds of the Rocky Mountains is quite an unusual occurrence. Priss had brought a tape of Etta James the 50s blues artist singing ‘I’d rather go blind’, it’s the saddest breakup song ever. After she played it a dozen times I was enjoying it less and less, and it was only making her sadder. I started whipping the MG harder and harder to get the exhaust note to drown it out. The Jaguar grandma picked up on Priss’s despair and instantly guessed that a boy was responsible. I knew that Priss could never share carnal details with her own mother let alone her grandmother, but she gushed away with Jag grandma and was soon feeling much better. I left the Etta James tape with them as a reward.
That road trip was a ‘coming of age’ event for us and I’ll never forget the adventures we had. Not long ago Priss was in town with her own daughter. Upon discovering that Priss and I were teenage friends, the precocious little miss Prissette immediately asked me what was her mother like as a teen, and what kind of trouble did she get into. I looked over at Priss and we both laughed, remembering our trip and our vow, “what happens on a girl’s trip stays, stays on a girl’s trip.
When my dad could only voice a half dozen reasons why this was an ill-advised endeavor instead of his usual 20, I knew I was going to win. Miss Prissy’s parents, Mr and Mrs Prissy, were a much harder sell. They asked my dad if he thought we’d be ok, he said: “they’ll make every rookie mistake possible”. “However, as a team, they seem to possess an uncommon amount of good sense and street smarts, so I’m sure they'll be fine”. Miracle of miracles the Prissys relented and a few days later we stowed our stuff in the MG’s trunk and prepared to take off. Priss was getting some final instructions from her mom, something about strange toilets. Dad told me to keep an eye on the oil pressure gauge and not to over-drive the dim little headlights.
The thing about an unstructured road trip, is you meet people and because of the anonymity, you share things with them. Things, you might think twice about saying to friends and family. We met up with an elderly couple driving cross-country in an ancient Jag XKE. The likelihood of two old English cars, both in running condition on the same day, out in the wilds of the Rocky Mountains is quite an unusual occurrence. Priss had brought a tape of Etta James the 50s blues artist singing ‘I’d rather go blind’, it’s the saddest breakup song ever. After she played it a dozen times I was enjoying it less and less, and it was only making her sadder. I started whipping the MG harder and harder to get the exhaust note to drown it out. The Jaguar grandma picked up on Priss’s despair and instantly guessed that a boy was responsible. I knew that Priss could never share carnal details with her own mother let alone her grandmother, but she gushed away with Jag grandma and was soon feeling much better. I left the Etta James tape with them as a reward.
That road trip was a ‘coming of age’ event for us and I’ll never forget the adventures we had. Not long ago Priss was in town with her own daughter. Upon discovering that Priss and I were teenage friends, the precocious little miss Prissette immediately asked me what was her mother like as a teen, and what kind of trouble did she get into. I looked over at Priss and we both laughed, remembering our trip and our vow, “what happens on a girl’s trip stays, stays on a girl’s trip.
The same can occur when tracking out of Turn 9 at Laguna Seca, but with much more pucker factor as it is downhill and the exit of the turn (also known as "Rainey Curve") actually banks towards the outside of the track, which can turn the 4-wheel drift into a tank-slapper in no time! But getting it just right is simply amazing, makes all of the blood, sweat, tears, and dollars that go into tracking your street car on a budget worth it!
Long story short, while driving a mega-exotic car is great fun (I have driven plenty), taking a great car to its (and your) true limits is simply intoxicating . . . . and the 951 is the perfect car for this!
